


Collar

by nightrose



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Collars, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Content, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightrose/pseuds/nightrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras gives Grantaire a present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collar

"Grantaire." Enjolras loves the way Grantaire still lights up every time Enjolras says his name.

“Yeah?” Grantaire puts down the sketch he’d been working on and walks to the doorway to greet his boyfriend with a kiss.

Enjolras swallows. He’s nervous, he can’t help it. “I… I have something for you. If you want it.”

“Is it your dick? ‘Cause the answer is yes.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, secretly amused. “No. I want you to go to the bedroom, take your clothes off, and get on your knees.”

“Still sounds like this is your dick,” Grantaire teases, laughing when Enjolras swats him on the ass. “See, it backfires when you spanking me is basically my favorite- oh, fuck-“ Enjolras hits him a few more times, rather hard- “thing. Right. Bedroom. Kneeling.”

“Good boy.”

Grantaire smiles at him, leaning in for one more sweet kiss before he rushes off to the bedroom.

Enjolras hangs up his jacket, leaving his briefcase on the kitchen table, and withdrawing the brown-paper covered package that had arrived to his work address just this afternoon. He tears off the packaging, leaving only the hard wood case. He opens it, just to check, just to be sure. It’s perfect—he’s pretty sure it’s perfect. He hopes Grantaire thinks so too.

He hasn’t been this nervous in… in a long time.

But he doesn’t doubt that, whether or not Grantaire wants this, Grantaire wants him. That is one fear he’ll never have.

So he closes the collar box and walks to the bedroom. Grantaire is in his usual position, hands folded behind his back, kneeling down, head bent. Enjolras walks over to him and tilts his head up. He strokes his thumb across Grantaire’s cheek, down to his lip. Grantaire kisses it almost automatically when the thumb brushes his lip. “Sweet boy,” Enjolras murmurs, and Grantaire smiles. “I want to give you this.” Enjolras opens the box, tilting it so Grantaire can see the red leather collar. It’s thin, thin enough that it might pass for jewelry, with a small silver ring in the front. It has delicate silver studs, round and unpointed. Every other one has a glittering red gem on it. It’s a beautiful thing (Enjolras spent a lot of time designing it, custom making it so it would be perfect for his boy). They’d talked about collaring as something Grantaire would like, right when they were first trying this new part of their relationship, but Enjolras had studiously avoided mentioning it until they were ready.

He’s ready. He doesn’t know—he suspects, but doesn’t know—whether Grantaire is, but Enjolras is certain that he wants to be with Grantaire forever, wants to show the world that Grantaire is his.

He looks at Grantaire, ready to accept whatever his reaction might be. He isn’t quite prepared for the absolute bliss in Grantaire’s eyes. He looks like he’s about to cry from pure joy.

Grantaire leans forward, kissing Enjolras’ hand, the box, the collar. He leans down and kisses Enjolras’ shoes, pressing his forehead to the ground between Enjolras’ feet. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—“

“Up on your knees,” Enjolras says, and all it takes is those simple words for Grantaire to push himself back into his position. “Such a good boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“If you want this… If you take this, I want you to wear it whenever we’re alone in the apartment.”

“Can I wear it all the time? Please?”

“Whenever you feel comfortable. Even if our friends make fun of us.”

Grantaire grins. “Thank you so much.”

“It locks shut. So I’ll have to get it on and off for you. But you don’t have to wear it if there are people around,” Enjolras stresses. 

“Mmkay.” Grantaire says, eyes already starting to glaze with the familiar look he gets as he’s falling into subspace. “Can I have it? Will you put it on me? Please?”

“Shh,” Enjolras soothes. “You don’t have to beg, love.” Enjolras unbuckles it, brushing his fingertips across Grantaire’s neck as he closes the collar at the nape of his neck. He eases it snugly into place and snaps the locking buckle shut. It’s more or less impossible to open from behind- Grantaire will have to ask Enjolras to take it off for him if he wants it removed. Grantaire nuzzles into his touch, so submissive and eager, and Enjolras feels so much pride, so much love. This, being together this way, makes Grantaire feel so happy and safe, and that’s all Enjolras needs to feel the same.

“It looks so beautiful on you,” Enjolras tells him. And it does. Grantaire, naked and collared and kneeling at his feet, is the perfect picture. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Master.”

“That’s new.”

“Feels right. Please.”

“Of course. My beautiful boy. Mine.”

“All yours,” Grantaire agrees, smiling so bright again, and Enjolras can’t resist any longer.

“Come on, pet.”

“Master?”

“I need to take you to bed. Now. If not sooner.”

Grantaire smiles. “Sounds like a plan.” He reaches up a hand, letting Enjolras pull him up off his knees and onto his feet. Enjolras draws him close for a long, sweet kiss, and then shoves him backwards onto the bed. He pulls Grantaire’s hair hard, forcing his head to one side, and starts to bite at Grantaire’s neck, just above the collar. The urge to mark and claim his boy is too strong to resist, now that the red collar is around his throat. He kisses down Grantaire’s chest, urgently tasting the sweetness of his skin. He pins Grantaire’s hands above his head. If Grantaire wanted, he could push Enjolras away so easily, but he wouldn’t. He’s such a good boy.

Enjolras grabs Grantaire’s hips, forcing him up and onto all fours. Grantaire goes so willingly, so obedient to just the touch. There’s lube on the bedside table, and Enjolras easily gets two fingers inside him. Grantaire is so relaxed, so ready and eager. His legs spread automatically. Grantaire lets out a high, whining moan as Enjolras curls his fingers, stroking across his prostate. Enjolras slaps his ass hard, watching the red mark rise up on his skin, and pulls his fingers away.

“I love you,” Enjolras whispers against the back of Grantaire’s neck, just above the collar. He bites a mark into the nape of Grantaire’s neck, digging his teeth in hard, as he slides sweet and slow into Grantaire. He grabs Grantaire’s hair with one hand, pushing his head down, which forces his ass up, into Enjolras’ hips. Grantaire moans, turning his head to nuzzle at Enjolras’ hand, even as Enjolras’ palm presses hard into the side of his face, holding him against the sheets. 

Grantaire kisses his hand, his fingers, his wrist, anything Enjolras will let him reach, desperate and worshipful and so, so happy that he’s here, that he’s being possessed, controlled, taken over. His eyes are closed, his mouth falling open, his body limp and pliant and shifting minutely into every thrust.

“Touch yourself,” Enjolras orders, and Grantaire’s hand automatically moves between his legs, jerking himself off in time with Enjolras’ thrusts inside him. Enjolras can feel it as Grantaire gets closer. He’s so good, so obedient, that he’d never come without permission. But Enjolras doesn’t want to watch him suffer. Not tonight. “Come for me when you can, love.”

Grantaire sighs and obeys almost at once, his body tightening around Enjolras and his hips jerking almost spasmically. Enjolras growls, pulling his hands away and pinning them to the small of his back. He fucks Grantaire furiously, almost brutally, all his strength in the desperate jerks of his hips, until he comes inside Grantaire. 

He collapses against Grantaire’s back, pressing a kiss against his neck ever-so-gently.

“Thank you, Master,” Grantaire whispers. Enjolras pulls Grantaire into his arms, holding him close.

“I love you, R.”

“I love you too.” Grantaire’s eyes fall shut almost at once. He’s blissful and exhausted, and with Enjolras’ arms around him, and Enjolras’ collar around his throat, utterly at peace.


End file.
